


Your Radio Loves You

by implicated2



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Advertising, Other, Radio, Teasing, canon-typical creepiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-30 00:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/implicated2/pseuds/implicated2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>At the center of your radio is its beating heart. </em>
</p>
<p>For the Kink Bingo square <strong>teasing</strong>. Written as part of the Ten in Ten Challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Radio Loves You

_And now,_ the radio intones, _a message from our sponsors._

You instinctively go still. There is a message you've heard before, one you're hoping to hear again. In the basement, the faceless old woman has been rummaging through shelves full of unlabeled jars. Her clatter stops too. All ears are trained on the radio.

_You want to touch your radio. You want to caress its smooth metal and sharp wires. Your radio loves you. You love your radio._

_At the center of your radio is its beating heart. You want to touch its heart, want to tear apart casings and battery cells until you hold its smooth, hot, gelatinous weight in your hand. Your radio loves you. It wants you to hold it._

_You imagine the taste of your radio's heart. It tastes of copper and urgency, of viscera and veins. It will buzz on your tongue, the voices inside it still speaking. Speaking only to you. You love your radio's heart. You want to swallow it._

_You are afraid. What will happen, you wonder, if you take apart your radio, let its heart slide down your throat, like the time you found that slick, glowing mass in your bathtub and it tasted of spearmint and moonlight and crushed glass. You love your radio. You do not want to lose the sounds it makes, the deep baritone of announcements, the hum of static, its soft howls in the nighttime, when it thinks no one is listening. You do not yet know that when you swallow a radio's heart, it lives on inside you. You do not yet believe that you will hear those voices from within yourself._

_One day, you will be brave enough to find out. Today, you will try to satisfy yourself by touching your radio's cold, humming exterior. You will not be satisfied. You love your radio. Your radio loves you._

_This has been a message from Judy's Sandwiches. Judy's Sandwiches: Deliciousness delivered from our kitchen to your doorstep._

Reaching for your radio, you shake yourself. Judy must have made a lot of blood sacrifices, because this is the fourth time you've heard this message tonight. Each time, you've come closer. This time, your fingers nearly touch the screwed-on panel, the one with the printed warning explaining that anyone who opens a radio risks injury, death, or bone-crushing regret.

It's the regret you fear most. You reach forward, letting your fingers run along the plastic outer shell, feeling the faint vibrations tingle against your skin. Over the airwaves, Cecil is apologizing to the family of yet another intern, and you wonder how it would feel to have his voice come from somewhere inside you. 

There are so many things you don't know. What happens to a radio when you swallow its heart? What was that slick, glowing mass? Is a radio's love anything like a human's? You draw your hand back. Somewhere below you, the faceless old woman resumes her search.

_One day, you will be brave enough to find out._ You think you look forward to that day. In the meantime, you call Judy's. For some reason you can't put your finger on, you are desperately, achingly hungry for a sandwich.


End file.
